


Here to Stay

by brokenEisenglas, orphan_account



Series: The Simple Life [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16928145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenEisenglas/pseuds/brokenEisenglas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It's been almost nine months since the end of what the Avengers have come to call the Infinity War. The second Snap has returned life lost to the universe, but at a great cost.Tony is settling.Steve thinks it's time to come home.***Title edit 5/23/2019 Originally titled: Home





	Here to Stay

Above the ground of a lonely wooded road, a portal opens with the sound of a growling cycle’s engine approaching. It’s a beautiful day, sky sparsely decorated with clouds holding off the heat of a harsh summer’s afternoon. 

 

_ “I’m thinking there’s gonna be, eh, twenty people max? Got Carol rounding up final numbers, quoting mouths to feed.” _

“Rhodes.”

_ “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Steve. We’ve got it covered. Stick to the plan.”  _ In the background of their call, Steve can hear the sound of the armor landing and plates shifting. _ “Can’t have Tony figuring it out.” _

Steve chuckles. “Give him a morsel—“

_ “He’ll take the whole cake. Right.” _

Steve likes James Rhodes, or Rhodey, as he prefers “from friends, of course.” The colonel is well-balanced between good man and hardened soldier. 

_ “Look, Steve. I gotta cut this one short, alright? Few more things to do before the get together.” _

“That what we’re calling it now? Not a party?”

The shuffle and scuff of phone between hands has Steve laughing before he even hears her start.

_ “Of course it’s a party, Army. When isn’t it when Stark’s involved?” _

“You think it’s because Tony’s there?”

Carol hums,  _ “Thor’s bringing the mead, so—“ _

“God, Danvers. Really?”

_ “And a handful of guests.” _

‘Handful.’ Steve shakes his head in amusement, leaning into the turn of his bike along the winding drive. Knowing how the others are and the very serious situation to them that the plus one is, Steve knows the numbers will just keep rising until the final guests arrive. Team had very quickly become extended family. A family that had experienced hell in a handbasket for the last year or more. With the righting of the Universe, the settlement of the bastardized Accords, and easing political situations, it’s come time for a moment of respite for the newly reunited and expanded Avengers.

_ “You aren’t listening anymore, are you? Worried how it’ll go?” _

Steve starts from the listing of his mind. “Sorry. No. Just considering. We’ve gotten pretty big, and Tony thinks that’s it’s just the core of us. He’s planning on only feeding a few…” Steve considers his own words and realizes that Tony will still probably make enough for a few platoons to account for all the enhanced metabolisms. “I should actually probably get off here and hurry up. Don’t want him to do it all himself.”

Even over the line, Steve can feel the energy of Carol’s soft smile. Despite the hardened bluster, her softer side can leak through.

_ “Relax, soldier. He’s not doing it alone anymore. Besides, I made sure to call it a potluck. Thus, the mead.” _

Something about the words she chooses strikes a discordant note in the depth of Steve’s breast. Steve slows the speed of the bike to a crawl. He can feel his composure failing. He knows that she doesn’t have the whole situation, doesn’t know the depth of the issues that got them where they are now, but sometimes Carol’s empathetic senses touch too close to things left unsaid that he feels exposed.

_ “I won’t keep you any longer, Steve. I know that drive is pretty squiggly and you ride that death machine. Just… let us know if there’s any special requests, yeah?” _

Steve grunts his assent and ends the call before she can realize how truly affected he is.

Tony isn’t doing it alone anymore. In fact, Steve sighs, he’s not doing it at all.

The last few months have been the hardest, he realizes. After Thanos, things… were not so well. The world was still in shambles, having barely picked itself up from the first Snap, only to have to adjust for the returned population of the Second. Supplies felt limited, badly distributed, unfairly hoarded. What Thanos had in mind for a better world…

Feet planted on the ground, he breathes a moment, listening to the rustle of the leaves, and enjoying the speckled light on his Kevlar clad skin.

He isn’t worried, not really, about tonight, so he wasn’t lying when he told Carol so. He and the others have talked it over, alternatives and all. So, that is not an issue.

But, Tony… Steve thinks of the weeks after the second Snap. Of the wounds sustained. The body lain upon the white sheets of a too sterile room. Skin pale, burned where the gauntlet had…

A text alert on his phone ruffles him.

_ How’d it go? _

According to his texts, Steve realizes he’s been parked on their private drive for too long. It’s only a little after noon, but the evening would come too soon if he wasn’t quick.

_ Smooth. On my way back. Got distracted. _

Kicking the bike back on and phone back in pocket, he starts up again, the engine roaring loudly.

They really do have a beautiful drive. Tony had wanted some seclusion, a place away from the dregs of the city life, away from the demands of a world in turmoil grasping and clawing for any shred of peace or blame in reach.

Steve is glad for the house and the property with it.

Pulling in, the land is slightly unkempt, in need of a mow soon, but otherwise, the foliage looks well rooted and full. There is a truck outside filled with wood needing to be split. Tools out on the table on the porch. A fresh paint wouldn’t go wrong. 

Despite the list of tasks in mind, Steve smiles. The bike roars to a stop.

He slings himself off, a satchel shouldered. He removes his helmet, hair sticking in all directions \-- and the echoes of his worries begin to fade.

He closes his eyes and takes it all in. He can hear the music on in the house, and smell the woodstove burning. He imagines the oven is going, the faint smell of freshly baking bread in the air. The proof of life at home eases some of the deeper turmoil. 

_ Home. _

A sentiment he had once felt for a place and a way of being far different from now.  _ Home _ : the Ideal. The team. Being an Avenger.

A home found not so homely anymore with the team split: Banner gone, Thor returned to Asgard, Clint with family, Tony…

Another waft of fresh bread on an air current diverts his thoughts once more. If anyone had asked him years ago, he would have said that his partner likely didn’t know how to boil an egg much less bake bread and grill meals. He’d have said a lot of things he’d come to regret. Heck, even after all this time, he is still caught out in surprise by the man he’s come to know as friend and-- 

Creaking boards have him crack open his eyes, and the smile grows wider. Revitalizing. Like water to the thirsting, meal to the famished. A salvation. Olive skin, burgundy bled eyes. The touches of grey-- 

God, he’s gorgeous.

“You sure do have impeccable timing. Always thought that was one of your super soldier super powers.”

With his lover’s appearance, the rest of the lingering melancholy dissipates. “Yeah? Mind telling me what I’m getting myself into for being on time?”

“Oh, I didn’t say ‘on time.’” The way Tony runs his fingers over the porch banisters and columns is his anxiety manifest. His rolled flannel sleeves ride the motion, revealing fading scars. He looks well rested for which Steve is grateful. “You just missed the bread prep,” he chastises. “No wait recipe. Lovely amount of kneading involved, and all that.”

“Only thing I need is you.”

The pause in motion has Steve suppressing his more teasing grin. It isn’t often that he can stun Tony into even a moment’s reprise. “I totally walked right into that one.” The red fills Tony’s cheeks, and Steve cannot help but want to lavish him with the attention he wishes he were able to so freely—oh, wait.

Steve bounces up the few steps and lightly grabs Tony’s face, kissing him softly, preciously. Because-- he chuckles lowly-- he can.

It lasts what feels like a few minutes, this easy give and take, before Tony has to stop Steve with a press of hand to chest and a whisper, “I’ve still got to get the grill. Too many mouths to feed for this post-Apocalyptic get together! And, _you_ need a shower. Love the smell of Kevlar and sweat personally, but _the_ _children_! You should know better.” He tuts and shakes his head, fauxly scandalized. Steve drops another kiss to Tony’s lips, humming his pleasure. He guides them backwards into the house, unspoken suggestion, when, “Mmm, nope. Shower. Now.” He waves Steve away, down the hall. “Go.” When Steve goes to do just that, his lover rumbles lowly, “Leaving me to do all the work. What would Agent think?”

Steve laughs heartily.

-0-0-0-0-

In the last few hours, he and Tony have prepared the house for their “expected” guests. The grill is still going, and the old picnic table is set with utensils, plates, and the chilled sides. Tony had decided that all other dishes would best be left in the house, covered to keep them warm and away from outside critters.

“It’s like asking for something to go wrong, putting fresh bread outside.”

They’ve popped up two small plastic tables and brought out the dining table, along with all the chairs. Enough to seat most of the small crowd except the few who can’t sit for more than a few minutes at a time.

“I’ll just sit on you,” Tony had explained. “So, this should be enough.”

Steve… doesn’t contest.

When the other Avengers start arriving through portals of their own, Steve starts to worry again that maybe they weren’t quite prepared for this, no matter what Jim and Carol said. Tony is expecting only a limited few of their guests, but from how Steve’s phone has been vibrating in his pocket ever since the end of the mission, Steve knows there’s going to be more than a bit of confusion.

When Tony sees the first portal open and out walk Carol and Rhodes, the social light switches on and he’s grabbing Rhodes into a breath stealing, lung squashing hug. Carol shakes Steve’s hand and gives him a plain brown paper gift bag with some unassuming squiggly ribbons hanging from the handle. Steve can feel Tony hone in on the bag’s presence and he hears the circuitry of his lover’s mind sizzle and snap with hypotheses.

Carol senses it, too, he sees. She looks at Tony, still clinging, though with less abandon and more distance, and she winks.

He perks up and reaches to—“No!” She smacks his hand. “It’s not for you.”

His affront is priceless.

“Well, what’s mine is Steve’s, so…” He reaches to take the bag again. She swats him again.

“No.”

“How dare.”

Carol takes the gift bag to the picnic table where all the utensils and stuff are, and sets the bag on the bench.

“Don’t touch.”

The pout Tony gives Rhodey in return has Carol laughing hard enough to vibrate in Steve’s own chest.

Now, to hoping the rest of the arrivals are just as welcoming.

 

The next arrivals include Natasha, Bruce, Sam, and Bucky, for which Steve is very grateful.

Despite the past, Tony and Bucky have over the last months grown rather fond of each other.

This does not bode well for Steve.

Sam agrees.

Natasha immediately begins to help Tony with the grill, motioning Steve to help the boys with their own bags. When Tony begins to fidget, and wonder what she has, she stills him with a solid hand and a mumbled, “Food, Antoshka.” Her smile seems soft, genuine, when his quizzical expression crinkles the lines in his face. “You didn’t think we’d make you feed us all on your own?”

Steve’s heart burns at the sheepish smile Natasha’s  _ Antoshka _ returns.

And, he’s still grateful Tony hasn’t figured it out yet.

 

The arrival of the Asgardians is… more fanfare than their other guests thus far. Thor’s rainbow bridge scorches part of the front lawn, leaving the beautiful whorls of Asgardian/Nordic texts.

“At least it’s the same spot every time now,” Bucky grumbles next to Steve as they move some of the leftover chopped wood.

According to Tony, the grilled foods are ready. Desserts will be ready by the time everyone finishes eating, and the chilled stuffs need to be eaten entirely because, “I don’t have enough room in the fridge, Steve. It’s not some pocket dimension, although…”

“No, Tony. We aren’t experimenting on the fridge.”

“Spoilsport.”

So, the current party of eight has been snacking thus far, leaving Natasha’s dishes untouched until the rest of the troupe arrives. Bucky and Steve, leaving the others to their gossip, have been finishing unloading and chopping some of the wood as well as other mundane necessities of the domestic life.

“Yeah. Tony doesn’t mind the marks, just as long as they stay in one place. And he says that  _ I’m _ the one that’s going to be old and yelling children off the lawn.”

Bucky’s near cackle sends Steve into his own fit of giggles, which summons the newly arrived god of thunder, in his gold and silver glory, to their corner of mirth.

“Friends! Captain. Sergeant,” his booming voice projects across the grounds, like the roll of the thunder he commands. “Such glad tidings on such fine a day. I bring drink and tales of glory, honor, and—“

 

Brunnhilde and Loki are quite the pair. They antagonize one another greatly, yet bond deeply over their connection with Thor, and looser so with Bruce, who’s own joy has been boistered by the gods’ arrival. The betting pool has grown since they were reunited after the battle of Wakanda and the first Snap. Rhodes and Natasha made claims, and, when those involved with the initial pool were lacking, a second was made and wages stacked, and now, Steve wonders, perhaps they were all actually wrong. That is, until Thor takes Bruce’s hand and leans to kiss the scientist’s cheek while Bruce talks about something that has obviously excited him. And, Tony just smiles and nods along. Unphased by the development.

“I knew he knew something,” Clint sneaks up behind Steve. He’s learned long ago how not to respond rashly to such antics, the first incident in the Tower leading to unwanted med visits and some bruised egos. “Prick wouldn’t place any bets. Shoulda known.”

“You already  _ said _ you knew.” Laura chuckles. “Besides, maybe you’d have  _ actually _ known sooner had someone just… asked?”

Steve is ready for Clint’s pouty response when the sound of a high pitched squeal and the chatter of elder sibling children drag him to the family in tow.

The family and Agent Coulson.

Even after the last year, Steve’s gut twists and wrenches with the knowledge that the ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent hadn’t— _ couldn’t have _ —shared the knowledge of his continued life after death. The apologies had been made, but forgiveness…

Before the darkness can pull on him, Nate’s high screech and insistent pulling force Steve to focus on a more immediate concern.

“You do know that’s rude?” He asks the growing toddler. Despite what he made strangers believe, Steve knew that the young Nathaniel could in fact form half decent sentences and hold a conversation. However, he had adopted a bad habit of screech-squealing lately in order to get attention. Laura had approved the stern talking-to’s that the other Avengers had to give for the little one to listen. Nathaniel closes his eyes and bows his head, speaking under breath. Trying to be easy, Steve lightly prods, “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that, kiddo.”

“’m sawwy, misser Steve.”

“It’s,” the look Laura throws him has him backtrack, “I mean, I appreciate that, Nate. That isn’t a very nice way to make people listen to you. I know it can be hard sometimes. Thank you, for your apology.”

The kids run to play with the things they’ve brought to entertain themselves with, while Laura takes another brown paper, ribbon adorned gift bag to the picnic table. Clint has already left to the larger group, telling some story of woe about one thing or another.

“It is really good to see how well everyone is after all that has happened.”

Steve nods his head in agreement.

“And, it’s good to see you settling. Looks good on you.” The way Coulson says it stirs a flittering feeling in Steve’s stomach.

_ Yeah,  _ he thinks, looking across the lawn.  _ It does. _

 

Within the half hour, more people arrive. A lot more people. There’s Happy and Pepper, with brown paper wrapped gifts and pseudo-healthy snacks. No strawberries. Vision arrives with Wanda, Dr. Strange, and Wong, with gifts, foldout chairs, and the Cloak—“not a Cape”—which is carrying what looks like a stack of old blankets.

“Peter requested picnic blankets,” Vision states.

Speaking of Peter.

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!”

He hears him before he sees him, which, for Steve, is usually the case. With Peter are his two friends, MJ and Ned, and his Aunt May. They, too, have brought containers and bags.

Steve silently hopes that Ned was the baker for this particular occasion. May, bless her heart, tries.

Tony has met the new group with a repressed distant enthusiasm. Peter has stolen a hug, and Tony shakes his friends’ hands, but May remains out of arm’s length. The iciness in her poorly hidden glare sends a shiver down Steve’s own spine. When Peter is back within reach, she places a hand on his shoulder in a passively aggressive move, an unspoken challenge to Tony, Steve knows.

He was there, for that particular conversation.

Tony refuses to talk about it.

When the Guardians arrive, they park their ship in a space originally cleared for the new Avenjet on the other side of the home. They call before phasing out of stealth and dropping ship. Steve appreciates their foresight, knowing that any one of the guests here could cause chaos if taken by surprise. When Steve greets them at the ramp, each of the members has in hand  _ huge _ containers of food.

So. Much. Food.

“I knew that, if we did not bring enough, then they,” Gamora motions to Drax and Quill, “would eat all the rest.”

Quill looks like he wants to object and Drax agrees with her. Rocket then points out three particular containers labeled with Mantis’, Groot’s, and his names respectively. Mantis just smiles and says “dietary needs.”

Steve is definitely glad that their alien intergalactic friends came prepared.

Even though he isn’t sure what would happen with the heaping amounts of food they now had.

 

When Steve and the new guests come around, Bruce is laughing about something Brunnhilde has said while Loki and Strange converse about… something about magic, it sounds like.

There is so much noise.

Thor’s exclamation of, “Will friend Hulk also be making an appearance with us today?” has many heads turning to stare at the shy scientist.

Steve can feel the tension in his muscles, the heat growing in his lower back.

Bruce looks around at everyone, pointedly silently asking Steve, “Only if everyone is all right with that.”

Tony’s, “Tell Green Bean he’s always welcome!”

Pepper presses her well manicured hand to the place between Bruce’s shoulders, offering support.

“Just let him know that he may get bored. And, not to smash the kids when they bother him.”

It’s quiet for a second, Bruce’s gaze distant. Then, he shakes his head and bright green eyes look at her and say, “Hulk like Spiderling and friends.”

And, with that, the party resumes. Conversations all around!

Steve doesn’t feel any better.

 

Officially, the majority of the party has arrived. The food is uncovered and the free for all has begun. There are people all across the lawn. The teens have hijacked the truck, using it for their conversations and food.

The late arrival of Scott, Hope, Cassie, Janet and Hank doesn’t surprise Steve. Hank holds no love for the Starks, any of them, even if Tony has gone out of his way to return credit where credit is due, but he does have with him a small, unassuming box. Steve wonders if he should worry about what’s inside. Check it. Make sure it’s okay. Safe.

Cassie runs through the crowd and jumps Lila with a hug. The girls squeal as they run the grounds. Lila checks with Laura, who has Nate in lap, before the girls take themselves to the edge of the wood and begin to play. Hope and Janet greet Carol and Pepper, Scott goes to Clint and Sam waving at Steve from afar, and Hank greets and grunts to anyone he passes, making plates and drinks for his troup. He looks around for something, and huffs.

Hank is invited by Bruce and Rhodes to their area with blanket and chairs, snipping under breath all the way.

_ Should have stayed home, ungrateful fuck. _

Steve regrets the thought as soon as it’s passed.

He’s approaching pissed-off. That discomfort growing in his spine. There are a lot of people, and not everyone has made it yet. T’Challa and Shuri had in fact messaged Tony about stopping in for the gathering. Steve hopes that they don’t bring more unnecessary gifts or meal supplies. First, there’s no room. Second, because he distinctly remembers telling Jim and Carol, as well as Natasha, to encourage people to _ not _ bring gifts.

Steve looks around for Tony to see where his partner has gone. He’s moving conversations rather quickly. And, while Steve knows that he shouldn’t be worried, that Tony is  _ good _ at these types of things, he can’t help but feel another worry creeping down his spine.

When the Wakandan embassy party shows--  only T’Challa, Shuri, and Okoye-- Steve appreciates that they have nothing visibly in hand. The sound of a loud, shocked yell and the resulting squeals of young children fan the embers that are Steve’s nerves.

Peter has jumped and run towards the Princess. Okoye watches dutifully, but does not prepare for an attack. Shuri brightens immensely when she sees Peter running towards her. Peter and Shuri, as if fated, have clicked into a friendship far faster than most kids their ages do. 

Tony dutifully exchanges greetings and keeps conversation with the newest guests.

Steve feels like he’s going to burst into flames.

 

Steve begins pacing the house. His anxiety has increased tenfold since the arrival of the Parkers and Pete’s friends. He’s found himself unable to remain still long enough to hold a conversation, and with the increased noise and his strained nerves, he can feel himself approaching an episode of… something. He wants to throw something. Or punch a wall. He wishes he could socialize more, wishes his composure were better. Solid. Not so strained.

He should go back. He should go back, stand with Tony, talk to their guests. That’s why they are all here, as it is. To celebrate them, this. He should pull himself together, put on his best Captain America, and make nice.

He wishes.

But, he can’t.

His pace has increased so fast to be a near jog that when the low cry of his name breaks his anxiety fueled internal meltdown it has him spinning fast enough to slip in the dirt beneath his feet, and despite his increased abilities, even he stumbles from the clash of aborted forward motion to twisted halting stop. What would have given most vertigo has not for him, but the sight that greats him does.  But, that isn’t what makes his heart ache and his stomach turn.

“Steve.” In front of him, before Steve could disappear around the corner away from the crowd, a misty-eyed Tony stares at him. He looks composed except for his big brown eyes begging Steve for something he knows he can do and is so close to giving, no matter what the others wanted for this day. “Steve. There’s too many—I didn’t—I, there’s too many. And, they brought so much stuff. But, but there’s no room.  I don’t, we, we don’t have enough  _ seats _ .” 

He should have gone back.  _ He should have gone back _ .

He should have stayed with Tony.  _ Together… We’ll do that together, too. _

This wasn’t what Tony had prepared for, what he had wanted.  _ Dust and ash. Blood and chaos. Shattered red and gold, dripping, scorched. ‘Oh god… Tony.’ _

He is spiralling and they are not there and the defeat is too much.

Steve grabs Tony, pulls him close and just breathes. He breathes him in, holds him tight, and hums. There is no ash, no blood. There is no foe here. He knows that Tony is safe.

It doesn’t help.

He wants to break something so bad, but knows he needs to calm down. They both do. He can feel the quick, near-hyperventilating breaths as Tony tries to keep his cool; tries to pull it together long enough to just finish this out, to collect his calm long enough to host this unexpectedly larger group of friends and family until they can finally have the house back to themselves, back to the quiet and less-stressed environment they first sought when having chosen this property.

“I knew we grew but,” with his face in Steve’s chest, he shrugs as if to motion back to the guests gathered across their lawn and porch, “I didn’t realize how much.” He rests in Steve’s chest, the hold comforting for both of them. When he has composed himself enough to pull back and away, he smiles weakly, “How many more did you collect the last few months, huh? Like cats. Start with one, end up with twenty. Sheesh.”

The anger that had been boiling in Steve’s chest still simmers, no matter how Tony wishes to play this off. He can tell that Tony does want to ease the stress of the situation. So he tries. “You said we needed to be bigger so,” he forces himself to give the best smile that he can give for the moment, “we got bigger.”

Tony shakes his head, a hint of self deprecation slipping through the cracks of his loosely pulled together façade. “I didn’t say anything.  _ We _ agreed that we needed more people. Since, well… yeah.” Sheepish about the conversation, Tony looks away from Steve.

Self deprecating, indeed.

“Tony.” Steve gently lifts Tony’s face under his chin in order for him to look in his eyes. God, they’re so beautiful. Wine and chocolates, Steve thinks. “I should have told you.”

Tony tries to look away again. Steve doesn’t let him.

“Tony. Love. I know… I- well. First, I should have told you. About everyone. Here. It was supposed to be a surprise…”

“Well, surprise!”

_ Yeah _ .

“… and, it wasn’t malicious. Not noticing you. The party itself was meant to be a time for you to be able to be with everyone again since…” Steve considers how he wants to continue. He has moved his hands to hold Tony’s, resting between their chests. Steve is so angry, and so tired, and he can’t imagine how Tony feels because Tony has been handling most of the social aspect of the surprise party planned  _ for _ him. Tony has been playing host to his own supposed gift, and Steve just can’t believe his own oversight. Their oversight of this. 

He sighs and drops his forehead to touch Tony’s.

God, what a mess.

“I’ve been working on Extremis.”

The shot of adrenaline feels like ice to Steve’s burning systems, forcing him to pull back.

Tony looks almost manic. Desperate.

“I think I can take the system changes made to Pep’s and, with some power alterations to the nanites, proper consequential procedural introductions to the body’s various systems, then maybe we can heal my body enough to pilot the suit, maybe add a few more years on my life, whatever the difference that may make, hoping that there isn’t a system cascade that causes me to, you know, go boom like Chernobyl because of some emotional bull—“

“Tony.”  _ Don’t do this. Don’t. Please, just,  _ “Stop. Just… stop.”

Tony looks like he wants to argue, but not really. He’s tired. He’s close to a meltdown. His face is pinched, his eyes are red though dry, and he has been chewing on part of his lip and pulling the dead skin from it making it look red and raw.

_ I love you _ .

“I know you feel… that you feel like you should, maybe that you still  _ want _ to…” Steve huffs in frustration. “My second point, love, is that I know, or I know enough, about how much being Iron Man has meant to you. You  _ are _ still Iron Man. Even here, now. But, if or until Extremis is actually safe, your health comes first. Period. No arguments. Yeah?

“And, as much as I, too, would like for you to be able to get back in the Armor,” the kiss Steve plants on Tony’s nerve bitten lips is light, reverent, “I want you alive more so.”

The tears have returned. The red around his lover’s eyes like burns over the slight puffy darkness below. Tony is tired. He doesn’t deserve this, the stress and pain. He doesn’t deserve what has happened to him nor what has been taken. He shouldn’t have to have been the one to wear the scars he wears, and have been left behind to suffer alone. He shouldn’t have to be the one to stay behind when the Avengers are out saving the world, when  _ Steve _ is out facing villains and criminals, risking his life while his lover sits at home wondering if he’s safe, if he’s coming home, if someone has Steve’s back. He shouldn’t have to be left behind.

_ I won’t leave him behind _ .

“I retired.” 

To Steve’s right somewhere, he can hear Clint’s groan and huff as he stomps away. Oh well, Steve thinks. This is more important than parties and big surprises.

“What?”

Actually, he guesses this might be a bit of a big surprise to Tony.

“Today was my last active mission. And, like you, unless there is an ‘all hands on deck,’ I’m here to stay.”

The disbelief is strong enough to emanate from Tony in waves. “But—“

Steve won’t let him spiral, “This, the house, the domesticity, is here to stay. We can even get cats.”

“But, Steve…”

“Tony. I’m over a hundred years old. I’ve fought in a world war. I’ve lead soldiers, commanded a team of superheroes, fought with those heroes against one of the greatest threats this world, this Universe, has ever seen, and come out on top. I’ve worn the suit, held the ideals, and then… I’ve been Captain America for so long that when I had the chance, took the stand, and tried to be Steve Rogers, I blundered. I messed up.

“I know it seems impossible. To want this, all of this. And, if it were just me, just Captain America… maybe I wouldn’t.

“But, it’s not just Captain America.

“It’s me.

“And, I want this. All of it.

“I want to know what it means to be Steve Rogers.

“And, I want to do that with you.”

Struck speechless.  _ Twice in one day _ .

He really is beautiful, Steve thinks.

“You’re… Steve. Are you sure? Because, I know how hard it is—“

“If the next thing to come out of your mouth includes or relates to living with or loving you, spending time with you, or any variant thereof, I’m going to throw clean laundry all over the floor and stack dirty dishes on the stove top for the next week.”

Behind them, raucous conversation and Thor’s loud hefty laughter echo. Steve feels it all seems so close yet so far away.

He wants Tony to laugh. To understand.

He wants him to be happy.

When eyes squint and brows draw together, Steve knows Tony knows he’s both teasing and serious.

He will do it.

Just to prove a point.

“You’ll sleep on the couch.”

He can’t help it, honestly. He can’t. Steve winks and smiles. “The price we pay.” Tony rolls his eyes. “And, I do mean ‘we.’”

The tension Steve has been feeling has waned slightly. Tony does that to him, sometimes. If he isn’t his source of ignition, then he is his refuge. Steve doesn’t feel as flammable. The fire has snuffed to embers, waiting to be fanned. But, he does not worry.

Tony appears calmer, his face not so pinched. The redness around his eyes has faded though not disappeared. He settles into Steve’s arms. Their height difference has been something that the Avengers often teased Tony about, and while it does annoy him, he tolerates it. Same with his ego. And his past promiscuity.

He tolerates a lot.

Steve holds him tighter.

The loud banging of a spoon on pan demands audience attention. Clint stands on the seat of the old picnic table, utensils raised high in summons. Never let Clint convince you he doesn’t have a dramatic streak.

“All right, all right, everybody! Hold your horses, shut your yaps. All eyes on me. Includes you, Wilson. Yeah, you. I gotch’yur number,” he points. “So, as we all know, we are here in regards to some important Avengers’ business that has become officially-unofficially not-so-much-a-secret as of a minute or three ago. Great way to spoil the surprise there, Cap.” The finger waggle he sends Steve is ridiculous. “Whole damn reason we are here, you know? Cap’s retiring! Yea! 103 years-old. ‘Bout damn time, if you ask me,” Steve rolls his eyes when the lot of them laugh. He feels like he should point out that he’s only a hundred-one-year-old, but lets it slide. “But, seriously. I shouldn’t be the one up here doing this. Gonna do it anyway because the rest of you,” his pointer sweeps the crowd (and particularly the original Avengers members), “are a bunch of cowards. What would you do without me?”

Natasha yells, “Sleep easy? Eat better? Watch better television?”

“Shut up, Nat. You’re biased.” All the Avengers, besides Tony, laugh. “Anyway. Love birds, come up here. On this rickety old patio bench you have here. Maybe not on it. Seriously? Was it here when you bought the place? Needs a good scrub and some new boards. A stain to seal and, hey, Laura! Honey! Can we—“

“Not unless you finish the attic like you said.”

“She’s no fun, Steve, I swear.” Steve enjoys the easy banter between Clint and Laura; he likes the way she corrals him from his gibbering tirades. He has taken advantage of Clint’s rambling and has dragged Tony to the front with him as per Clint’s request. Tony’s more reclusive and sometimes shy side has kicked into gear, and Steve can sense Tony’s desire to stay back. It’s moments like these that Steve wishes he could reverse time and change history.  “Anyway. We’re here. Announcing Cap’s official retirement, with obvious conditions applied. Fucking lawyers, y’know? Have a wonderful domestic life, Steve. Tony. You both deserve it. But, don’t get too comfy, because if the world is ending, you still have to work for your paychecks.” This does make Tony laugh, loud and heartily. He still fits and finances much of the Initiative. “Shut up, Stark. Don’t laugh at me. Laugh with me. Much better. See, y’all? This is how it’s done. Yes? Cool. So, Cap’s retired. We’re all here to wish him well, give him gifts, blah, blah, blah. Oh, and, Tony? This is for you.”

Strange opens a glowing portal as a bouncing Peter approaches the standing couple and the “Announcer.”

To anyone who looks, it is very obvious that Tony has a particular soft spot for Peter. The kid is brilliant. Steve has come home before to find Peter had portalled to the house in order to work on some project or another with Tony, and Steve would then find them together in the workshop outside working with soldering and welding equipment or passing holographic schematics back and forth. Steve likes him. He’s a good kid. Truly  _ good.  _ And, he loves Tony.

“Mr. Stark. Hi. Um… So, I know how you usually feel about, well, gifts and stuff. You know. And, we all kinda weren’t really sure what to actually get  _ you _ so… we more or less, you know… wanted to do something special. Something different. Not able to be bought…” Peter’s nervous as he reaches through the portal as Tony watches with a glint of humor in his eyes, which widen when he sees what, or rather who, it is that is being pulled through.

Steve can see the pure hopeful joy that alights in Tony’s eyes. It’s been literal years since they’ve seen each other. The boy, with his wild curly dirty blonde hair and sharp eyes grins ear to ear when he sees Tony. Behind him, Daisy and Anna follow, both smiling bright.

Tony breathes, “Harley.” To Steve, his smile lights up the world.

“Heya, Mechanic.” Harley fist bumps Peter before walking towards Tony, a box in hand. “Yeah. Can’t really be bought, ya know? Not through the bills, or school. Clothes that show up randomly. New shoes. Tech for projects and whatnot.” Steve can see the water in Anna’s eyes as her hand squeezes her daughter’s shoulder. “We do have something for you, though.” The teen takes the little box, wrapped in red paper and a gold ribbon, and goes to hand it to the older man. Tony, still recovering from the moment, takes the box, and wraps an arm around Harley, pulling the kid into a hug.

“It’s so good to see you, kid.”

The chuckling makes Steve’s heart ache. “Good to see you, too, Tony. Been a while. Whose fault is that?”

Tony just rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Safer for you that way.” Steve can see a little flicker of anger spark before Harley controls himself, rolls his eyes, too, and pushes the box to Tony’s chest.

“Well, hurry up!”

When Tony looks around, concerned with what it may be, Steve encourages him to open it. It had taken years to have Tony trust just the few of them enough to take things in hand. For him to do so and openly show his comfort… well, Steve is impressed with the progress time has given. Even after everything that has happened.

Harley is watching Steve very closely. Assessing him, Steve thinks.

Good kid.

What Tony ends up unwrapping has him scrunching his face in gross disbelief and the rest of their guests chuckling at his response. “Ugh, what is this? Who would even—are you trying to give me hives? This is from, what? The 1800’s? No, too soon. An absolute insult. A disgrace. Shame to the Stark name.” As he rides his tirade, waving the device around and searching for some device compatible with the, what appears to be anyway, floppy disk, Princess Shuri comes over with a wrist device. Never mind that Steve knows that the disk is actually Wakandan technology disguised in such a rudimentary faction to further pluck at the inventor’s sensibilities. “How could you—does anyone even still have technology to—“

“Dr. Stark?” Shuri interrupts. Tony stops his fidgeting and fussing to look at the young genius. Once, Steve would have expected Tony to feel challenged, inferior to the Princess’s intellect.

_ “I’m a futurist, Steve. I may be an asshole, but I’d be a fuckin joke if I wasn’t prepared to be replaced. She’s gonna rule the world someday. You wait and see. And, she’ll be glorious.” _

“Put this on your wrist.” She places the curved metal band on the table that Clint still happens to be standing on, Steve shakes his head. Tony reaches for the bands she is setting it down, puts it on, and the disk lights up.

It’s a holographic projector.

Tony is delighted.

“I  _ really  _ couldn’t tell this was a holo-pro. Seriously. You just pull it apart and fill the bits? Frankenstein it? Because, I’m definitely thinking this petrified piece of plastic malware might actually just be—“

“Tony,” Steve whispers, “turn it on.”

When he does, it breaks Steve’s heart to watch.

On the screen, Peter Parker sits in an interview chair, slightly facing the camera. The picture flickers every so often, like the recording on an old VHS tape, Steve was told. Nostalgic, the kids said. Video Peter clears his throat and begins, “ _ I was six-years-old when I learned what a hero is.” _

The footage begins to roll showing scenes shot from cell phones of the early Avenger’s group.

_ “I was six the first time I stood up to a villain.” _

Video footage of the Stark Expo begins playing. But, then a picture comes on screen of an older man holding a small kid on his shoulders while they lifted part of an Iron Man mask they had on, little gauntlet gloves’ lights glowing.

_ “I remember them coming towards us, Uncle Ben and I. He grabbed my hand to have us run, but I slipped hold and turned around. Everyone was running and screaming, trying to get away, and, I thought, ‘I don’t want to run. I shouldn’t.’ So, I stood there. I mean, I definitely got in trouble. Super trouble. But, I stood my ground. And, to me, I could do it. I could beat the bad guys. Because, right then.” _

The footage has returned to recording Peter. His eyes stare off and he’s reminiscing, Steve can tell. He has the corner of his lip turned up.

_ “ _ I  _ was Iron Man” _

The tears in Tony’s eyes shine from the holo-pro’s light. The crowd of guests watches along, misty-eyed as well.

When Vision’s voice projects, Tony looks a little surprised.

It’s a day full of them.

_ “How would you be expected to describe Tony Stark?” _

The video appears to take a turn for the worse. Steve knows it’s meant to setup for the more emotionally complex responses, but his chest still hurts when he sees the quick cuts of each of the original team’s answers.  _ “Asshole,” “oblivious,” “self-involved,” “hot-headed.” _

_ “But, none of that is quite true, is it?” _

Clint laughs,  _ “No, I don’t think it is.” _

They reminisce. Memories of moments long passed in which the mask and the man didn’t quite align.

_ “People are afraid of me. I don’t blame them. But, he wasn’t. Of what I could do? Yeah. But, not me.” _

_ “He’s an asshole, yeah. Quirk of being a genius,  _ I  _ think. But… he cares. Does everything he can to make sure you’re safe, well taken care of.” _

_ “He’s oblivious, but generous. Outwardly dismissive; actively empathetically aware.” _

A clip of Tony, Steve, and Thor plays of them after a Hydra raid. Thor is gesturing widely of some great maneuver he has done while Tony tosses his head back in laughter and Steve is bent over holding his ribs from the ache of his giggles versus their bruises.

_ “The Man of Iron is both marvel and mystery. A worthy ally, and even worthier friend.” _

The video continues on. Steve knows it’s almost twenty minutes long. Tony has leaned back against his chest as he watches. The tears trickle every so often as each new face appears, stories, beliefs, defied expectations, inspirations… They share them all, beautifully edited by the kids.

The tensing of muscles when Wanda’s face appears on the screen has Steve wrapping his arms a little tighter around Tony’s stomach, encouraging him not to worry. That things are not what he thinks.

_ “Before, before I became an Avenger, I looked into Stark’s mind, and what I saw… I believed it to be who he was. My parents were killed by Stark weaponry. And, I blamed him.” On screen, she drops here head, eyes on the floor, and sighs. “I’ve done many things I regret. Believed lies and dismissed truths. But, there is one thing I know now to be undeniable.” _

Vision asks her what that is.

_ “I was wrong, about Tony Stark.” _

Tony’s head turns to Wanda, who stands far enough away to not bring attention to herself. She doesn’t look at Tony when he stares at her with question on his brow. Of them all, his and Wanda’s relationship is the most strained. They do not trust each other implicitly, but they have come to a mutual understanding.

That is, until now.

Tony is confused, Steve knows. He’s talked sparsely about what he thinks the others think or feel about him. ‘I know how they look at me,’ he’s said. Steve, who has promised to keep Tony’s words in confidence, has lightly prodded the subject with the others in the time since Thanos’ defeat. This is how they decided on a present to give.

_ “I warped his mind, and he invited me into his home. I stoked the fire of his fears, and he provided everything I ever needed. I destroyed the house he used to protect me from the people who wished to imprison me, then I threw a garage floor filled with cars on top of him.” _

The memories of their airport fight haunt Steve nearly as much as the beat down in Siberia. He remembers Tony being buried in the debris of cars and flooring, the sound of the comes with Rhodey’s fall, and his own desperation to find Buck and get away.

_ “I have never met a person more forgiving than Tony Stark.” _

God, what a fuck up.

_ “I hope I’m able to be even half as so.” _

Tony’s fingers link with Steve’s on his stomach and squeeze. Steve must be breathing too fast because he can feel the slight lightheadedness that comes with his panic. A thumb rubs a steady pattern on his own and he focuses on that alone, the rest of the world droning away.

By the time Steve realizes the video is coming to an end, he feels ashamed of his spacing. He should have stayed focused. Should have paid more attention. What if Tony had needed him? Some support Steve’s been today.

“Stop,” Tony whispers before Peter comes back on the screen. “No self-flagellating.”

_ “People like to say that Mr. Stark is inflated. He has an ego. Is a shark, a phony. Tabloids blast mixed truths and lots of lies about him all over the papers... But, they don’t see the whole picture. _

_ “They don’t see what we see.” _

Even though he knows what’s coming next, his embarrassment still heats his face. These aren’t words he hasn’t told Tony before, but he’s never said them so openly or publicly, something he should remedy. Steve knows the impact his words can have on public perception, and with the amount of negativity circulating in the media right now, even after everything they’ve done, Steve feels he needs to do more. Say more.

_ “He’s… everything,” his own voice tells him. _

Pictures of the team together: laughing, running simulations in the Tower, at the Party before the Ultron event. Videos of them horse playing and guffawing. And, beneath them, a soundtrack of chatter, jokes, and silliness.

Vision’s voice interrupts,  _ “Care to elaborate?” _

The Steve on the video cuts his gaze to the camera and smiles shyly. Tony holds tighter to the arms around his torso, preventing Steve from pulling away. From turning away.

Even with his embarrassment, he wouldn’t miss this. No matter the anxiety. It really needs to be said, to be heard.

_ “I… I woke up. In this new century. Confused. Lost. Angry… I was shown documents and videos. Newspapers and printed articles. I looked over these between SHIELD missions. Never sure what was true and what was not. I, I tried, not very hard, but I t-tried, to learn how to live in a world I didn’t understand. A world not my own. And, from what I learned, I hated this new world… _

_ “Then, I got the dossier on Tony.” _

A clip of Tony and Steve together at one of the Avenger movie nights plays. Clint uses a rubber band and some paper footballs to shoot them from where he’s perched on a table in the background. Tony just picks up the pieces, commenting on them and telling some story about an experiment, while Steve just fondly stares.

When the video shows Steve again, he’s looking directly at Vision with such intensity that anyone else may have faltered and stood back or stepped away.

_ “He was everything I hated about the twenty-first century…” _

When the tear crawls down Steve’s cheek, Vision prompts,  _ “And now?”  _ Video Steve straightens up and faces the camera he’s done mostly well to ignore until now.

The grip Tony has on Steve’s forearm tightens, the tips of his nails digging small disks into flesh.

_ “Tony. _

_ “I know… I know you don’t— don’t normally want these kinds of displays. Or, that’s what you say. I think I know better, now. You do it for me. You do  _ so much _ for me. _

_ “You give so much for so little in return. You deserve more. Much more. _

_ “You’re the glue, the magnetic force in this family of ours. Pulling us back together even when we've orbited far away. You keep us together, even when we're apart. _

_ “You fight because you had everything and when you took it for granted, you changed. A futurist, that’s what you called yourself once before. ‘Making a better tomorrow.’ Tony… sometimes I think you don’t realize that you—you built  _ today.

_ “Every sacrifice, every trial, every triumph. You’ve done exactly what you said you were going to do. By making tomorrow, you’ve radicalized today. The world you save is not your own, but ours. You do things, not for yourself, but for others. Charities, Stark Industries, the Iron Man armor, all of that! You do, not for yourself, but for the world. _

_ “Years ago you said we weren’t soldiers, and, you’re right. We’re more than that. You. You are more than that. You’re not a perfect soldier, and… I… you…”  _ he grunts, frustrated. “ _ Years ago, when Dr. Erskine chose me for the formula, he told me, ‘Stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.’ _

_ “You  _ are _ a good man, Tony. _

_ “Even when we fought, even when the world came crashing down. Through it all, you’ve given, sacrificed, so much. You’ve stood in the face of fear and death, and you persisted. When you saw the situation going south, you didn’t just react, you intervened. When the inevitable came, and things could be much worse,  _ you  _ laid down on the wire. _

_ “In the end, you always lay down on the wire.” _

Tony’s body shakes in his arms, attempting to repress the sobs that should accompany his tears.

_ “It’s always you.” _

Steve pets his lover’s arm and squeezes.

_ “You’re my hero.” _

“I love you,” he whispers. The taste of tears wax bittersweet for the kiss they share. The snotty whoops and standing applause around them goes unheard. Here, right now, it’s just them.

Tony smiles, sniffling and snorting; he chokes on a whisper under his breath.

“Happy retirement, old man.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

“Have you spoken to them lately?”

The nondescript black SUV pulls up to the front lawn of the old farmhouse. The lawn is a few days old from a fresh mow, likely to last longer from the coming cold than would have been normal. There are new bushes that were planted along the front porch, native, Maria Hill notes. Rooting has gone nicely. Wood is neatly stacked along the side of the house and some in a bin by the front door while more logs are piled by the chopping block. There’s some furniture being assembled on the far side of the porch, two cats huddled together on the surface, and the base and framing of an expansion begun around one side. That’ll need to be finished soon, she thinks. Tools continue to lay sprawled across the available surfaces. 

A wreathe of heroes hangs on the door. Inside, the oven is on and music plays.

“Not since Stark was in hospital.”

The domesticity should be more surprising to her, but, then again, she did have a running bet with Natasha before the Ultron fiasco. 

“Then, I think it’s about time we said hello, Sir.”

She personally thinks that Nick keeps too far a distance with this team of his. Well, not his team anymore. She knows he cares, but even she has a limit of tolerance for his abrasive dismissiveness. She brushes past the older man wearing his dark grey sweater and jeans. She thinks he should have chosen something a little more… festive.

Christmas bag in hand, she knocks.

**Author's Note:**

> I have had some lovely help from the great , tinyfurycloud and ChillsofFire, as well as others I am very grateful for from discord. They are lovely friends and great writers. Seek them out.


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